Ombra, Part Six Final Part
by Chornyi
Summary: Conclusion.


Ombra, Part Six (final part)  
  
By Chornyi  
  
Not mine.. Not even Ian, unfortunately. You know whose they are.  
  
This is it, the last part.. How will it end? Read and find out.   
  
....................................................................................  
  
Sara's head aches. She rolls over slowly and presses her hand to her forehead. She feels a lump, and warm wetness trickling down her temple.   
  
For a second, she can't remember where she is, then it comes back to her-   
  
The replicant.   
  
Ian.  
  
She remembers the replicant holding her against the wall, him kissing her. The blade at her throat, the momentary tension in his body when she told him she would never yield.   
  
Ian's voice behind them.   
  
Then the replicant threw her across the room, and she blacked out. The last thing she remembers is the replicant telling Ian, Irons should have warned Ian about him.  
  
He was going to kill Ian.   
  
Maybe he already has.   
  
Though her head aches and her vision pulses, Sara forces herself to her knees. Nausea rolls over her.  
  
Where are they?  
  
Is Ian dead? If so, the replicant will soon follow him. Maybe Ian didn't do such a good job of saving her, but he tried. She owes him for that.  
  
Keeping her left hand pressed to the wound on her temple, Sara scans the room. There, a bit of motion. She forces her eyes to focus, although she fears she has a concussion. Nothing new.   
  
Narrowing her eyes, she leans forward.  
  
Her sight clears and she sees them. The replicant has Ian in the same position that he had her in earlier- back pressed to the wall, right hand forced upward. As she watches, he pulls Ian's blade from his grasp and lets it drop to the floor.   
  
He doesn't kiss Ian. Instead, he leans back from him and lowers the tip of the katana to his throat.  
  
He is going to kill him.  
  
Ian has his head tilted back, his eyes closed. His hair falls around his face in a wavy tangle.   
  
Blood runs down his jaw in a slow stream from a cut across one cheekbone.  
  
Sara struggles to her feet. Her head pounds and black edges encroache on her vision.   
  
On her right hand, the gauntlet forms, blade extended.  
  
She staggers slightly as she crosses the room, but she doesn't waver in her course.  
  
The replicant is speaking to Ian. He is totally focused on the man at his mercy.  
  
He doesn't hear Sara behind him until it is too late.   
  
Just as his arm tenses to push the katana through Ian's neck, Sara drives the Witchblade into his back.  
  
He stiffens, and the blade quivers in his left hand, drawing a thin line of blood from Ian's throat before the tip drops and the katana slips from his hand as if it has suddenly grown to heavy to hold.  
  
Sara leans forward until she can speak directly into his ear. The Witchblade is still embedded in his body, she feels the hot warmth of his blood flowing over the gauntlet.  
  
'Yield,' she whispers.  
  
He makes a thick sound in his throat and slowly turns his head to look at her. His eyes are wide and dark, filled with surprise and confusion.  
  
'What.. have you.. done?' he asks.  
  
'I've killed you...' Sara says. It doesn't come out the way she meant it to. The words hold horror.   
  
'Not.. supposed to happen.' Blood slides over his lower lip and oozes thickly down his chin. He tries to speak again but no words come out.  
  
He coughs, then makes a supreme effort.   
  
'Should be...proud. So many others tried.. Only you.' He falls forward and she catches him, lowering him gently to the floor. His head falls back and his eyes, wide and dark, stare upward as if trying to see something just out of view.   
  
'Going..' he whispers hoarsely.   
  
She puts her hand under his head and he turns his cheek into it. ' Don't hate you.. Thank you..' he whispers.   
  
His head suddenly becomes heavier. His chest heaves once and then stills.  
  
He is dead.  
  
Sara feels hot wetness running down her cheek and realizes it is tears.  
  
She stays kneeling over the body, hand under the dead weight of his head, until another hand touches her shoulder.  
  
She looks up into Ian's solemn dark eyes.  
  
'Thank you, Sara.' he says softly.  
  
'Don't thank me.' Gently, she lays the replicant's head on the floor. 'I killed you.'  
  
'No. He was not me.' He takes her arm and helps her stand. She looks down at the body on the floor.  
  
'Close enough.'  
  
Ian meets her eyes. His are golden-brown and sad. So like the eyes of the man she just killed.  
  
'I'm sorry you had to do that, Sara, but I am not sorry you did it,' he says softly.  
  
Sara doesn't look away from his gaze. Finally she speaks.   
  
'I'm sorry I killed him, but I'm not sorry I saved your life. If I had to choose, I'd choose you, Ian.'  
  
His eyes widen slightly when she says that.   
  
The tiniest smile curls his lips. 'Thank you,' he says again.   
  
He realizes he is still holding her shoulder and starts to let go, but she grabs his hand holding it there. Her face crumples.  
  
'Oh, God, Ian.'  
  
She feels his arms come around her and she buries her face in the front of his coat.   
  
Inside, she is reliving it.   
  
The feel of the blade going in, the sound he made, the darkness filling those eyes, the weight of his head as the life left him.  
  
She presses hard into Ian's warmth, trying to block out the images.  
  
---  
  
Ian holds Sara.   
  
Tentatively, he raises his hand and strokes her long chestnut hair.   
  
She shudders with the effort of holding in sobs. Her arms are around him inside the coat, her head against his chest, face pressed against him.  
  
He is afraid to move.  
  
She has never willingly touched him before.   
  
Now she has given herself over to him. She is like a baby in his arms, helpless, griefstricken.  
  
He holds her as if she is made of spun glass and knows these seconds will be imprinted on his mind forever-  
  
The thick, silky texture of her hair.   
  
The feel of her tears soaking into his shirt.   
  
The soft whimpering sounds as she tries to stifle her pain.   
  
Her scent.  
  
'Sara,' he whispers, so softly he can barely hear himself. 'Don't cry, Sara. Don't cry.'  
  
He lowers his face until his cheek is against her hair.  
  
He breathes her in, and the ache inside him is, for an instant, filled.  
  
---  
  
Sara wins the fight against her sobs.   
  
She will not cry for him anymore. He was a killer, and now he is gone. She should not mourn him. She will not.  
  
She comes to herself in Ian's arms. He is a warm, protective shelter around her, encircling her with his body. His cheek rests on her head.  
  
She smells some spicy, expensive aftershave and the not-unpleasant scent of his sweat and blood.   
  
She hadn't known he could holds her so gently, or that his touch, his embrace, could be so comforting.  
  
She remembers the other Ian's touch, his kiss, and wonders if this Ian would kiss her the same way. She thinks not. She thinks he would be gentler, more hesitant.  
  
The fact that she is even thinking of him kissing her means she needs to be out of his arms.  
  
Gently, she pushes back from him and he lets her go.  
  
Her face is wet with tears and she rubs her cheeks dry with both hands. For an instant, she avoids meeting his gaze, then gives up and looks into his eyes. His expression is serious. 'Are you alright, Sara?' he asks softly.  
  
'I will be,' she answers him. 'Thank you, Ian.. For, you know, holding me. I needed someone.'  
  
'I'm glad I could be your 'someone', Sara,' he says. He seems embarassed and looks down, lowering his head.  
  
Sara reacts before she thinks. Gently, she cups her hand under his chin and raises his face again. His warm brown eyes stare into hers from inches away.  
  
Slowly, carefully, she leans forward and kisses him on the lips.  
  
A soft, gentle kiss.   
  
Then she pulls back.   
  
His eyes are closed. She notices he has long, thick lashes as dark as his hair.   
  
When he opens his eyes again he gives her a small, uncertain smile.  
  
'I'm glad you could be, too, Ian.' she says.   
  
---  
  
Ian knows he is smiling, a smile that would get him slapped if Irons was alive to see it.   
  
But he can't help it.   
  
Happiness is like a bubble inside his chest, a balloon rising, tugging at its leash.  
  
He stares at Sara, unable to look away.  
  
She stares back, as if finding him as fascinating as he finds her. Then suddenly she tenses. 'Oh, my God,' she exclaims softly. 'I forgot Danny!'  
  
She turns away from him, and the moment is gone. But Ian knows something has changed.  
  
Following her across the loft, he kneels beside Detective Woo and cuts the tape binding his wrists and ankles with a short knife from his pocket.  
  
Sara reaches down, wrapping her arms around her partner, hugging him.  
  
'Danny, Danny.. I was so worried about you.' She gives him a little shake, then hugs him again. 'How could you have come here on your own? How could you risk yourself like that?' she asks.  
  
The Asian detective straightens his legs, wincing. Reaching up, he pushes back black hair and raises his brows at her.  
  
'Hey, Pez, you do it all the time.' he says.  
  
'That's no excuse.' But she is smiling.  
  
Detective Woo looks past her, up at Ian. 'Hey, Nottingham. Thanks for telling Pez where to find me. She saved my life, but she couldn't have done it without you.'  
  
'You are welcome,' Ian says. He reaches down, and after a second the other man takes his hand and lets him pull him to his feet.  
  
'C'mon,' Sara says. 'Let's get out of here.' Then she pauses. 'Ian? What about.. him?' She doesn't look toward the body.   
  
Ian does.   
  
The replicant lies where she left him, on his back. A pool of blood has seeped from under his body, but his pale face is peaceful.  
  
'He will be taken care of,' Ian says. 'I will see to it.'  
  
'Thank you, Ian.'  
  
'You are welcome, Sara.'  
  
She starts to leave with Detective Woo, then pauses when she realizes Ian isn't following.  
  
'Aren't you coming? I'll get your stuff from the precinct.'  
  
'Later,' Ian says. He sees the concern in her hazel eyes and shakes his head. 'I must stay here for a while. I will come later.. If that is alright.'  
  
'Of course it is.' Her eyes remain on his for another second, before she turns to leave. 'Goodbye, Ian.' she says softly.  
  
'Goodbye, Sara,' he answers.  
  
When she and her partner have started down the stairs, Ian walks back to the body of the replicant. He kneels outside the blood and picks up his katana. He kisses the blade near the hilt and puts it over his shoulder into the back sheath.  
  
Then he reaches down and gently closes the replicant's staring eyes.   
  
Picking up the black Ninja blade from the floor a few feet away, he closes the replicant's hand around the haft, then lays the blade crosswise across the other's chest.  
  
For half an hour, he remains kneeling by the slowly cooling corpse. Finally, he leans down  
  
and gently gathers the replicant's body into his arms.  
  
Bearing the weight, he rises to his feet and walks down the stairs and out of the abandoned dojo.  
  
THE END  
  
--- 


End file.
